back when i was in community college my teacher told us the story of a girl in his class who wanted to have sex with her boyfriend but they didnt have any lube so they used mayonnaise. fast forward a couple of days and she’s getting random orgasms during class and driving places so she goes to the doctor and they check her out and guess what they found
okay ill tell you it was maggots. maggots were in her vagina giving her orgasms.
Never forget that you are the protagonist of your own story
and the antagonist of someone else’s!
And a possible love interest in some other peoples! 0u0
This might just be the single most inspiration thing I have ever seen on the internet.
You are also a supporting character to a lots of people’s stories. You might even be the kind stranger who unintentionally turns someone’s life around for the better.
As far as I know, Christina hasn’t cried since we got here, but now her face crumples and she lets out a sob that is louder than the river. Another wave hits the wall and the spray coats her body. One of the droplets hits my cheek. Her hands slip again, and this time, one of them falls from the railing, so she’s hanging by four fingertips.
Would I even be strong enough to hold on to her? Would it be worth my effort to try to help her if I know I’m too weak to do any good?
I know what those questions are: excuses.
from now on I’m going to convey sarcasm over the internet by typing like this
oh wow look how sarcastic that looks
that actually does look really sarcastic though. this is revolutionary
DEAR GOD SOMEONE HAS INVENTED THE SARCASM FONT THIS IS A TIME FOR CELEBRATION
The pacer is a test in gym class/PE that brings a shiver of despair down the spine of any unfortunate soul who has gone through it before. And it’s usually done at least once a year.
Students line up on one side of the gym, eyeing nervously the painted line before the opposite wall that will decide their fate. The teacher hits play on the stereo and a cheery woman’s voice echoes through the gymnasium. fuck that woman’s happy demeanor. She explains the rules as the kids wait anxiously. Get to the other line before the beep plays. Simple enough, right?
"Ready? Begin!" she calls, and the gut wrenching ‘beep!’ plays after.
The kids awkwardly half jog to the other line, with about 3 or 4 seconds before the next beep. Each time the horrendous noise plays they run back and forth to the lines. “Level one, complete” she says, as to pat you on the back for what little victory you’ve achieved.
Not bad, the kids think. But then comes level 2. level 3. With each interval the time between the beeps shorten, and you’re running as fast as you can to the other line. Your foot hits it, you pivot, the beep plays, youre running again. Your lungs burn, your throat is sore, your heart is on the verge of an attack. No rest. No mercy.
A girl is the first to crawl over to the instructor, defeated. Seeing one has fallen, other students begin to follow since “at least theyre not the first ones out”. Clutching their chests they bail out of the test. One girls crying. You can’t tell if the boy on the gym floor is alive or not. Three kids left for the water fountain and still havent made it back.
And then, the fallen sit there, watching the myths, the legends, the kids who have made it past 100 laps. 120. 150. When they finally collapse a cheer erupts from the students. Theyre heroes.
But the excitement only lasts for so long as the next round of nervous kids line up, who opted to go in the second wave and prolong their torture. The womans voice kicks back up. The beep plays. The cycle continues.
THIS GIVES ME NIGHTMARES STILL
I am the girl who quit first,
every single time, like stupidly early because fuck the bleep test!
I am the reason you are not a failure, because at least you weren’t first
You are welcome!
i have to take it three times a year *shivers*